


divesting from fossil fuels

by calvincoolidgestan



Category: Academia (Anthropomorphic), Amherst College, Anthropomorphized Academic Institutions, Biddy Martin, College and University - Fandom, Five College
Genre: Alcohol/Drug Use, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Cringe, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, I'm just going to warn you all there's a lot of sex in this, M/M, Mount Holyoke straps it on, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, PWP, Party Games, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, handjobs, orgy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvincoolidgestan/pseuds/calvincoolidgestan
Summary: Amherst College is getting a little lonely (and horny) during a self-imposed, months-long quarantine with their best friends Smith, UMass, Mount Holyoke, and Hampshire College. The situation escalates and wishes are fulfilled during a drunken game of Dirty Jenga. This is satire, please do not sue me.
Relationships: Amherst College/Hampshire College, Amherst College/University of Massachusetts Amherst, Just Assume Everyone's Fucking, Mount Holyoke College/Smith College (Anthropomorphic), Mount Holyoke/Amherst, Mount Holyoke/Hampshire/Smith, Smith/University of Massachusetts Amherst, There Might Be More But I'm Too Lazy to Check
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	divesting from fossil fuels

**Author's Note:**

> I am but a simple college student who was dared to write anthropomorphized college smut. Things spiraled out of control. Please don't @ me. Unless you want to say something nice, in which case I'm all ears.

It started as a game.  
When college was still in session, they had played it once a month--usually in one of the University of Massachusetts’ many disgusting frat houses, where beer cans littered the sticky concrete floors and Lil Nas X boomed from the oversized speakers. Once in Smith’s house, in a quiet room littered with succulents, but that had resulted in an unfortunate call from the on-campus police. At the end of summer, they had even played the game in the woods behind Hampshire. Hampshire swore up and down that woods parties, with their inevitable undertones of Dynosian excess, were the best venue for playing the game. Amherst was inclined to disagree. They much preferred a venue with fewer mosquitoes and more privacy.  
The rules of the game were simple. The Jenga tiles themselves had been handed down from previous colleges--Amherst remembered them from the days before the Williams Exodus, although the dares back then had been more along the lines of “expose your ankle to the group” or “quote a passage of the Iliad from memory.” One simply stacked the tiles on top of each other like regular Jenga tiles and took turns pulling them out--but with the added twist that any tile drawn contained a dare, or perhaps two dares, from which the recipient had to choose and then perform.  
“Ready?” Mount Holyoke exclaimed from across the room, pouring a generous glass of pink Moscato. In the dimly illuminated room, Amherst could just barely make out the faces of their friends. If they squinted, Smith’s nose piercing came into focus, glinting in the soft gleam of the fairy lights Hampshire and Holyoke had strung in artful bunches from the low ceiling. UMass huddled over the speaker, no doubt busy setting up a queue of hours of shitty mumble rap that Smith and Holyoke would soon override in favor of King Princess. Smith’s dark eyes flashed with mirth, her shoulders shaking at whatever joke Mount Holyoke was whispering into the soft shell of her ear. Her skin in the low light was almost luminous, glowing, the smooth expanse of her shoulders broken only by her extremely long candied-orange earrings. Her short red curls hung around her head like a halo of roses, casting a rich copper shadow that seemed to envelop Holyoke as well. Sitting together like this, with their hands intertwined, they looked almost like a solar eclipse. Amherst felt a stab of jealousy and was immediately irritated with themself. Why couldn’t they have the same level of intimacy with Hampshire College? Why did they always feel like the one being left out, talked over, forgotten?  
“Let’s begin,” said Holyoke, in a sonorous voice clearly intended to approximate that of an old-timey medium. Holyoke loved to read other people’s tarot cards and look up their astrological signs in a little book she carried with her everywhere. Her hair, a shapeless coil of black curls, hung over her shoulders like a mass of starlit night. Her eyes were dark and sensuous, the lids heavy and never quite opened all the way; in the center of their pupils she seemed to hold several tiny silver stars. Her gaze, when applied directly, smoldered and left Amherst leaving a little weak in the knees. Fuck. Amherst had to admit to themself that maybe they were just horny. It wasn’t as if they were hard up for sex, exactly. But with the virus getting worse every day, they hadn’t been able to play the field in their usual way. Gone were the obligatory and terrible Tinder hookups with Harvard, Yale, and Dartmouth. Even their fairly committed long-distance fling with Pomona had fizzled after a terrible Zoom call in which Amherst had made the mistake of calling frisbee golf “boring.” Long story short, Amherst was going through the dry spell of all dry spells. They didn’t even have students right now. With their halls empty and echoing, they were secretly longing to be filled.  
Holyoke and Smith pulled their cushions forward to the center of the room, where Hampshire and UMass had begun to stack the Jenga tiles. Each tile looked miniscule wrapped in the thick fingers of UMass’ muscled hands. UMass worked out four days a week, and he never ceased to remind them of it. Amherst had tried to keep up with his weightlifting schedule, but it seemed physically impossible to lift five days a week while also keeping up a strict academic calendar. Not that UMass had to worry about academics. He always seemed effortlessly comfortable with his workload, no matter how late his coach kept him at lacrosse practice or how much homework he got from his Microecon class. Hampshire finished stacking the tiles and turned their piercing gaze to Amherst, who suddenly realized they had been standing like an idiot in the doorway to the living room, admiring the way Hampshire’s newly dyed green hair glistened in the flickering light.  
“Are you ready?” asked Hampshire. Amherst felt a pleasurable shiver run up their spine.  
“Ready for what?”  
“The game, babe,” said Hampshire, tipping their head back in a ridiculously sexylaugh. The long column of their throat practically begged to be licked. Amherst took a long swallow from their drink. The bubbles went up their nose and burned the back of their throat. Ugh. Amherst much preferred cocaine, ideally snorted off the counter of a Panda East bathroom. Unfortunately, all their regular plugs had dried up since the start of the pandemic. Amherst sat down next to Hampshire on the floor, strategically positioning themself to be close, but not too close. The alcohol hadn’t yet made them bold enough to touch Hampshire’s knee, the way they’d been wanting to for at least ten academic terms--to run their fingers through the soft curls at the nape of Hampshire’s neck, or maybe even press a soft kiss to the hammer-and-sickle tattoo that bisected their collarbone. To Amherst’s surprise, Hampshire immediately shifted closer, lining their bodies up shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee. Amherst shivered again, more intensely this time. They could smell Hampshire’s vegan shampoo, the lavender oil they dabbed behind their ears each morning, and underneath it, something soft and earthy--a scent that was so distinctly Hampshire that Amherst could feel their dick stiffening just by being in close proximity to it.  
UMass pulled the first Jenga tile and let out a bark of laughter. “Switch clothes with someone,” he said in his deep baritone, running an appraising green eye around the circle.  
Smith flushed. Color appeared high in her cheekbones and bled down her neck into the soft valleys of her collarbones. “Wow, really starting off strong,” she muttered, reclining further into Holyoke’s shoulder. Holyoke turned her head and pressed a kiss to Smith’s temple. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” she said, her eyes sparkling. Smith blushed even deeper and nestled herself into the crook of Holyoke’s arm.  
“No, I want to. I’m just a coward,” she said.  
“Okay, well it doesn’t matter,” said UMass, “because I’m going to switch clothes with...Amherst.” He fixed Amherst with an evil grin.  
“Sure,” said Amherst, shrugging nonchalantly. They stood up and began to remove their argyle sweater, wincing as the cold air of the room hit their bare chest and their small, rounded nipples began to harden. Glancing down, Amherst saw that Hampshire and UMass were both staring at them with speculative expressions. Actually, UMass had a look on his broad face that was more like...hunger. Amherst felt a spark of heat blossom in their groin. Was UMass into them? They’d thought UMass usually went for someone more conventionally feminine. Their past flings had all been with women’s colleges, with the exception of Tufts, whom they’d dated for one ill-fated summer in the late nineties. UMass was certainly attractive, in a conventional, porn-star sort of way. He had a wide, symmetrical face with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. He was tall, imposing, with an athlete’s natural grace and speed of movement, and he kept himself in very good shape despite the seventy-eight cans of BudLite he was liable to shotgun every Friday night during the semester. Amherst boldly made eye contact with UMass as they stripped off their high-waisted corduroys, maintaining the connection until the pants had been entirely removed and flung to the side. Hampshire wolf-whistled, and Smith gave an embarrassed little chuckle. UMass made no move to remove his own clothes.  
“Aren’t you going to strip off too, UMass?” said Amherst, feeling daring. “The tile said we have to switch clothes, not that I have to do a strip tease for everyone. Not that I don’t like strip teases per se,” they added.  
“You have to take off your underwear too,” said UMass, his voice especially gravelly.  
“I think it just said clothing,” interjected Holyoke, stroking Smith’s shaggy curls with a slender, graceful hand. “Underwear isn’t clothing.”  
“Besides, it’s too early in the game to be getting naked,” agreed Hampshire.  
“Fine,” laughed UMass, “I don’t actually care.” He grabbed the neck of his grey sweatshirt and tugged it over his head, tousling his dark curls. “My underwear’s probably too big for Amherst, anyway.”  
“Shut the fuck up,” laughed Amherst, grabbing UMass’ sweatshirt and pulling it over their own head. The sweatshirt was so massive it completely swathed Amherst, burying them in an igloo of soft cotton. Possibly UMass had a point. UMass had shucked off his jeans and boots as well, but Amherst didn’t bother pulling the jeans on. They liked the feeling of the cool night air on their bare legs. The soft, downy hairs on their shins pricked up and stood at attention.  
“You look like you’re wearing a nightgown in that,” said Hampshire. “I like it.”  
UMass was having an incredibly difficult time putting on Amherst’s corduroys. He got them halfway up his thighs, but from there the muscles bulged out too much for him to continue without ripping a seam. The argyle sweater fit over UMass’ head just fine, but once it was on him, it looked less like a sweater and more like a crop top. Smith giggled madly as she watched, her elfin face flushed red; Amherst wondered how much she’d had to drink before the game started.  
“I’m going to get another drink,” Amherst announced, ignoring the groans from their friends. “Keep going without me.” They wandered into the kitchen and poured themself a shot from the open bottle on the counter. From the other room, Amherst heard Hampshire say something that sent the rest of the group into gales of wild laughter. Feeling irritated at nothing in particular, they pinched the bridge of their nose and downed the shot, wincing as the alcohol burned the back of their throat. They poured themself another shot. Then another. By the time Amherst stumbled back into the room, everything was fuzzy around the edges. They sat back down on the cushion beside Hampshire and adjusted the sweatshirt so that it hid everything except their socks. Hampshire grabbed for Amherst’s hand and entwined their fingers together. Amherst inhaled sharply, the alcohol making their head spin. The warm pressure of Hampshire’s fingers were going straight to their cock. They shifted slightly on the cushion, trying to ignore the urge to adjust themself through their underwear in front of everyone.  
“Finally,” Hampshire said. “We thought you’d given up on the game and were just trying to steal UMass’ clothes or something.”  
UMass looked ridiculous, half-dressed as he was, and yet still somehow very attractive. The muscles of his biceps bulged under the arms of Amherst’ sweater, and his six-pack was on full display, as were the tops of his muscled thighs. A trail of wiry black hair wound from his belly button down his stomach and disappeared into the hem of his boxer briefs. Amherst shifted their eyes away, heat pooling in their groin, and drew a tile from the massive Jenga stack.  
“Reenact your first kiss with the person to your left,” they read, their stomach dropping. Shit. Amherst turned to face Hampshire, their face heating. Hampshire’s face was glowing, too, if that was possible; their eyes looked very dark, the pupils almost bigger than the irises. Their cheeks were flushed and there was a thin sprinkling of freckles over their broad, flat nose. Their lips were plump and shiny with gloss. “Is that okay?” asked Amherst, leaning forward slightly. They could hear their heart pounding in their ears. Hampshire’s lavender scent and the underlying musk was even stronger now, a luscious scent that, coupled with the vodka, made Amherst’s mouth water.  
“Yeah, of course,” said Hampshire, leaning in.  
“Wait!” cried Holyoke. “You can’t reenact the kiss without telling us about it first.”  
“And making it funny,” said Smith, hiccuping a little bit. Her red curls were disheveled from reclining on Holyoke’s chest.  
“Okay, fine.” Amherst took a second to think. “I was in sixth grade, I think. I went to a birthday party at a bowling alley for this girl in my class. It was fun. It turned out this girl had been wanting to tell me that she had a crush on me. She kept staring at me all night. And, well, while I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, she kissed me.”  
“Did you like it?” asked Hampshire.  
“Not at all. I thought it was disgusting. Her lips were really slimy and wet,” said Amherst. “But I was also a terrible kisser back then.”  
“And are you still a terrible kisser?” asked Hampshire.  
“Come and find out,” Amherst said, and kissed Hampshire abruptly. Their lips were warm and soft and sticky with gloss. Amherst instinctively opened their mouth. The tip of Hampshire’s tongue slid against theirs, sending a fission of sparks down Amherst’s spine. Amherst pulled away abruptly, their whole body tingling.  
“Jesus,” said Hampshire, laughing slightly, “I was not expecting that.”  
“Me either.” Amherst felt weirdly light and floaty. They cleared their throat and motioned to the tiles once more. “Anyway, who’s next?”  
“Me!” Holyoke reached out a hand and delicately extracted the next Jenga tile. The stack wobbled dangerously to the left, drawing gasps from Smith and Hampshire, then stabilized.  
“What do we do if it falls over?” asked Amherst.  
“Orgy,” Hampshire joked. Everyone laughed. “No, I’m completely serious. If anyone knocks over this pile, we have to immediately have an orgy.”  
“You need more than five people for an orgy,” interjected UMass, his voice deadly serious.  
“It’s a joke!” cried Smith, sitting up straight for the first time all night. “Jesus. If we’re gonna talk about orgies, I’m getting another drink.” She stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, where Amherst could hear the vodka bottle and shot glass clinking against the counter.  
“Baby, can you make me a cocktail?” Holyoke called to Smith, then turned back into the circle. “Okay, sure, we’ll definitely have an orgy,” she said sarcastically. “But anyway, my tile has two choices. I’m taking a group poll: Kiss everyone who consents, or scream?”  
“Scream?” UMass wrinkled his brow.  
“Yeah, I guess.” Holyoke shrugged.  
“Like literally scream?” said Hampshire. “Don’t do that. That’s boring.”  
“So I have to kiss everyone?” said Holyoke, looking annoyed.  
“Everyone who consents,” said Hampshire. “Just like in an orgy,” they added, glancing at Amherst.  
“Okay. Does anyone not consent?” asked Holyoke. “Amherst? UMass? Okay.” She crawled across the circle, carefully avoiding the Jenga tile, and came to rest in front of UMass. “Come here.” She kissed UMass softly, with just a hint of tongue. When she pulled away, they were both laughing.  
“Was I any good?” asked UMass, his broad shoulders shaking.  
“For a guy,” Holyoke replied. She made a show of wiping her mouth that only made UMass laugh harder. “Alright, Amherst, come here.”  
Kissing Holyoke was nice, thought Amherst. She was certainly a good kisser. She waited a moment before opening her mouth to Amherst’s tongue, then slipped her own tongue into their mouth and ran it lightly around the inside once before drawing it back out and sucking lightly on their bottom lip. Then, with a teasing nip, she was gone. When Amherst opened their eyes, they found Holyoke beaming at them.  
“You’re a good kisser,” Holyoke said. “I knew it. Next!” Holyoke crawled to Hampshire and made a show of being sexy for them, opening their mouth and licking their lips like an amateur porn star. Hampshire laughed and then pulled Holyoke into a dramatic embrace, bending her almost entirely backwards and planting a vintage-movie-finale kiss on her glossy lips. Holyoke wound her hand into Hampshire’s green curls, pulling gently. Smith came back into the room with two tall glasses full of a mysterious electric blue substance--vodka and blue liqueur, Amherst guessed. “Get a room,” she laughed, slurring her words a little. Holyoke and Hampshire broke apart. Hampshire crawled back across the circle to their place. They leaned their head sideways until it rested gently on Amherst’s left shoulder. Amherst shivered. Their cock jerked beneath the soft grey fabric of UMass’ sweatshirt. Fuck. This was ridiculous. Amherst dug their nails into their palm, hoping the pain would stop them from being such a fucking simp.  
“Come here, babe,” said Holyoke, pulling Smith closer to her. Smith handed Holyoke a glass of the blue substance, then sat down practically in her lap. Holyoke tenderly rearranged Smith’s curls with her left hand. “Well?” she said, looking around the circle. “Whose turn is it now?”  
“You still have to kiss Smith,” said Amherst. Hampshire relaxed further into their shoulder, letting the entire top half of their body rest against Amherst’s chest. Amherst let their left arm ghost softly around Hampshire’s back. Their fingers brushed against the soft strip of skin between the waist of Hampshire’s high-waisted jeans and the hem of their black crop top. Holyoke made a noise of mock disgust.  
“Kiss Smith? I couldn’t possibly,” she joked.  
“What if I kiss you?” Smith turned in Holyoke’s lap until she was practically straddling her. It was so intimate, Amherst couldn’t look away. They felt themself getting even more turned on, if it were possible. Stop it. Amherst shook their head as they watched Holyoke lean forward to press their lips to Smith’s. The kiss wasn’t like the kiss they’d shared with UMass or with Hampshire. Smith threaded her fingers into Holyoke’s hair and pulled her face to hers, kissing her deeply, hungrily, with an ease that showed they had done this many times before. A soft moan escaped Holyoke’s lips as Smith straddled her, pressing her body so tightly against Holyoke that it was difficult to tell where one academic institution ended and the other began. Amherst’s face felt hot. They ripped their eyes away from the spectacle and looked around at Hampshire, who was watching with obvious interest as Smith shoved her tongue down Holyoke’s throat, and then at UMass, who had placed one of his huge, muscled hands over the bulge in his crotch.  
“Alright, break it up,” said UMass gruffly. He reached over to the couch and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it securely around his midsection. “Smith, it’s your turn to choose a tile.”  
Smith didn’t seem to hear. She was still enthusiastically kissing Holyoke, whose hands had migrated from her hips to her ass and were helping Smith to grind against her stomach.  
“Smith!” said Amherst, much louder. They could feel their cheeks heating. “Choose a tile, or else we’ll be here all night.”  
Smith finally seemed to remember where she was. A deep blush colored her freckled cheeks as she disentangled herself from Holyoke’s arms and returned to her cushion. Grabbing her glass, she took a deep swallow of the blue liquid, wincing visibly at the burn of the liquor. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  
“Okay, okay…..I choose….this one.” She poked at a tile near the bottom of the stack. Everyone sucked in a breath as the tower wobbled even more dangerously than before.  
“Do you want me to pull it out for you?” asked Holyoke, looking nervous. “Remember, if it falls….”  
“You can’t pull it out for her,” said Hampshire. “I’m sorry, but that’s the rule. No proxies.” They snuck a mischievous glance back at Amherst. Amherst nodded back, trying frantically to puzzle out what it could mean. Their hand was still resting at the small of Hampshire’s back, fingertips just underneath the hem of Hampshire’s velvet top. Hampshire didn’t want to have an orgy, did they?  
Maybe so.  
The thought instantly made Amherst’s palms sweaty. Their cock jumped to full attention, straining against the fabric of their underwear. If Hampshire leaned just a little bit more to the right….  
Smith poked the tile with their index finger again. To Amherst’s immense surprise, it slid halfway out without destabilizing the rest of the stack. With a gentle, almost surgical tug, Smith slipped it out and held it up to the light.  
“Do a strip tease,” she read. “Really?”  
“Is it too hard?” asked Holyoke.  
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” said Amherst. “You could just see what’s on the other side--”  
“No, it’s too easy,” said Smith indignantly. She stood up and turned in a slow, sensuous circle, keeping her grey eyes locked on Holyoke’s. She slowly removed one enormous earring and tossed it to the side, where it landed in UMass’ lap. Everyone laughed. Hampshire wolf-whistled, which earned them the other earring. Smith turned her back to the circle. With a wink backwards at Amherst, she crossed her arms over her middle and grabbed the hem of her blue Wailin’ Jennys t-shirt. She slowly raised the edges, revealing more and more of the freckled skin of her midsection, until finally she pulled the t-shirt up and over her red curls and stood there topless, her back still turned so that no one but Holyoke could see the soft swell of her breasts. Suddenly, she turned and struck a dramatic pose. Her breasts were small and very round, the nipples a soft pink. As Amherst stared at Smith’s chest, her nipples hardened perceptibly. Amherst’s cock responded in kind. Fuck. They were going to have to go to the bathroom and take care of this soon, or the ache in their balls was going to become difficult to bear.  
Smith shimmied out of her black denim skirt, leaving her wearing only fishnets and a pair of sheer black panties that left little to the imagination. She spun in a circle once more and then ended her routine with a little bow that almost knocked over the Jenga tower. Amherst, Hampshire, and UMass applauded, but Holyoke was too busy gazing at her girlfriend.  
“I didn’t know you had that in you, babe,” said Holyoke, sounding stunned.  
“Neither did I!” Smith laughed and sat down again, this time fully in Holyoke’s lap. She made no effort to cover up her chest. Holyoke folded her own arms protectively around Smith. Hampshire leaned forward to choose a tile, placing their right hand directly between Amherst’s crossed legs as they did so. A curtain of green hair fell forward over Hampshire’s face. They impatiently brushed it out of their eyes and grabbed a tile sticking out near the top of the stack.  
“Everyone take off an item of clothing,” they read aloud, rolling their black-lined eyes impatiently. “Tame.”  
“Do you have a different suggestion?” asked UMass, his voice even deeper than usual.  
“No, it’s fine. C’mon,” Hampshire said impatiently, wiggling out of their jeans so that they sat in the middle of the circle wearing only a black crop top and red boxer shorts. They raised one arched black eyebrow at the others. “Unless the rest of you are suddenly cold?”  
“I’m not cold,” said Smith, already rolling her fishnets down her long legs and over her polished toenails. The rest followed suit. Soon UMass sat in only his underwear and Amherst’s too-small sweater, the blanket still wrapped around his crotch but not doing much to conceal his current state of arousal. Holyoke removed her black dress to reveal a matching set of constellation-patterned bra and underwear. Amherst rid themself of the enormous sweatshirt, shivering as their bare chest and back were exposed to the air once again.  
“I’m getting another drink,” they said, standing up abruptly and walking to the kitchen. Standing up straight had become more difficult than usual, they realized, as the room swayed and the lights around the room ran together, their many hues melting into one enormous bouquet of warmth that suffused the room and bathed everyone’s face in an array of rainbow colors. Hampshire looked so beautiful Amherst could hardly stand it, their brown eyes almost black, the pupils sparkling green and red and blue in the low light. Amherst left the room. In the kitchen, they decided to forego the shot glass altogether and just drank vodka directly from the bottle. It didn’t even taste all that bad anymore.  
Holding the bottle by the neck, they made their way back to the common room. The vibe had definitely changed since their exit. UMass was in the corner taking hits from a Spongebob-shaped bong, while Holyoke, Hampshire, and Smith had degenerated into a cuddle pile of bare limbs that made Amherst practically ache with jealousy.  
“So, are we gonna keep going, or what?” asked Amherst, sitting down heavily on their cushion. Hampshire sat up, pulled the bottle gently from Amherst’s hand, and took a swig. They grimaced.  
“God, I hate alcohol,” they said. “UMass! Your turn again.”  
UMass returned to the circle, still holding the bong, which emitted a soft wisp of weed-scented smoke. His green eyes were glazed over and the harsh lines of his face had grown soft and relaxed. “Anyone else want a hit?” he asked, holding the bong out in front of his still-obvious erection. Holyoke took it and breathed in deeply. UMass reached out and carefully drew another tile.  
“Demonstrate how you suck dick.” UMass’ eyes shifted from sleepy and relaxed to wide and excited. “Is this for real?”  
“I don’t remember the Jenga tiles being this dirty,” said Holyoke, her legs still tangled suggestively between Smith’s.  
“Well, a dare is a dare.” Hampshire sat up straight and tucked their green hair back, widening their eyes suggestively. “Show us, UMass.”  
“What should I demonstrate on?” asked UMass. “Are there any phallic-shaped objects in your suite, Smith?”  
“Not any we want you to use for this,” said Holyoke, giggling.  
“Why don’t you demonstrate on me?” suggested Amherst. The blood was pounding in their ears, almost drowning out the bass in the soft bedroom pop drifting from Hampshire’s speakers. Despite their nerves, they felt more than a little excited at the prospect of seeing UMass drop to his knees in front of them. But surely it wouldn’t happen. UMass would pretend to suck them off, or almost start to, and then the whole thing would be laughed off as one big joke.  
UMass licked his lips, his expression unreadable. He glanced back and forth between Amherst and Hampshire, seemingly asking for permission. Hampshire raised their perfectly sculpted eyebrows and nodded towards Amherst, as if to say yes, it’s okay. Puzzled, Amherst didn’t fully process what was happening until UMass had crossed the few feet of space between them and was standing far closer to Amherst than was probably necessary, towering almost a full foot above Amherst’s head. Amherst could smell the warm, musky scent of UMass’ cologne and the strange mint-vodka-weed perfume of his heavy breaths.  
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, dude?” asked UMass, a shadow of concern crossing his heavy brow. “I mean, I don’t want to make you do anything--”  
“No, I want it.” said Amherst, swaying a little. And then, to Amherst’s astonishment, UMass actually did it. He dropped to his knees in front of Amherst, putting his face level with Amherst’s barely clothed bulge. Amherst started to say something else, but it didn’t matter, because UMass’ breath was hot on their crotch, and their dick was starting to stir again, straining against the confines of their cotton shorts. Hampshire was staring at Amherst and UMass with a knowing look in their eyes, while Holyoke and Smith both looked thunderstruck. Amherst tried to take a deep breath. To their embarrassment, it came out low and breathy, practically a moan.  
They spread their skinny legs further apart until they were almost straddling UMass, cringing internally at how they must look. If only they’d spent more time in the gym. But UMass didn’t seem to care. He only stared up at Amherst adoringly, his pupils blown so wide there was only a tiny edge of green around the black center. As if there was really nothing he’d rather do than suck Amherst’s cock. Fuck. Amherst tilted their head back, almost afraid to watch, as UMass gently slid his hands up Amherst’s thighs and up to the waistband of his underwear. He was waiting, Amherst realized. Waiting for Amherst to expressly show that this was what they wanted. Amherst took the elastic of their underwear and slid it slowly down, hissing as the wet fabric brushed against the head of their hard cock. Now totally exposed, Amherst tried studiously to keep their gaze focused on the ceiling or the floor--anywhere but Hampshire, though they wanted desperately to see the look on Hampshire’s face. Were they impressed? Aroused?  
Suddenly, UMass reached out his hand and wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of Amherst’s cock, making Amherst gasp again. They looked down at UMass just as UMass leaned forward and pressed his firm pink lips tentatively against the head of Amherst’s cock. He pulled back a little and stuck his tongue out, tongueing the slit, which had already begun to ooze pre-cum. UMass seemed to enjoy the salty taste, taking the time to roll his tongue around the crown of Amherst’s prick while Amherst tried not to moan and buck their hips at the stimulation. They no longer cared that Hampshire, Holyoke, and Smith were still watching. All that mattered was that UMass kept running his tongue over them, over and over again, until suddenly his lips were wrapping like a silken vise around the head of Amherst’s cock. “Oh…..oh, fuck,” Amherst said, letting out a long, unrestrained moan that choked off at the end. They grabbed at UMass’ head, their fingers finding purchase in the soft, dark curls. It felt so good, better than it had any right to feel, especially when they were this drunk. UMass was breathing hard around Amherst’s cock. His teeth grazed the shaft of Amherst’s cock, and fuck, even that was fantastic. Amherst lost themself in the pure pleasure radiating out from their dick. They gasped, body jerking, as UMass hollowed his cheeks and swallowed Amherst’s cock right down to the base, until his aquiline nose was practically tangled in Amherst’s dark, curly pubic hair.  
Looking up again, Amherst made eye contact with Hampshire and saw that Hampshire’s cheeks were flushed bright red, their cherry-red lips parted to allow little panting breaths to come through. Their hands hovered over their crotch, not touching, exactly, but poised, waiting. Amherst imagined Hampshire touching themself, making themself come undone with those long, smooth fingers, the shiny black nails disappearing inside them. The thought made them even harder, if that were possible. They felt their balls drawing up, pleasure coiling tight and boiling hot in their center, as UMass’ throat contracted like a velvet vise around the head of their cock. They were dimly aware of the chorus of filthy sounds spilling from their open mouth, but all that mattered was their rapidly impending orgasm.  
“UMass,” Amherst choked out, “UMass, I’m gonna...I’m gonna…” Pleasure coiled in their gut and radiated out into their shaking body, coiling tighter and tighter until suddenly, without warning, Amherst’s hips jerked forward and a torrent of come spilled out of their dick and down UMass’ throat. UMass kept sucking, holding Amherst’s dick in his throat until their orgasm was spent, then pulled off with a wet pop!  
Amherst closed their eyes for a moment, feeling exhausted and sated. “Fuck, UMass, that was….”  
“Not bad for a first time, right?” UMass leaned back on his haunches, wiping his hand across his lips, which were now swollen and slick with saliva.  
“That was your first time?” asked Amherst incredulously. “I mean….that was fucking incredible. Thank you,” they added after a pause, feeling slightly awkward. They dragged their eyes away from UMass’ face and found themself staring at Hampshire again. Hampshire’s flushed face was beautiful and unreadable in the flickering light. Slowly, deliberately, keeping their eyes locked on Amherst’s, they leaned forward, one hand reaching for the middle of the circle.  
The Jenga tower tumbled to the ground with a soft clatter.  
“Hey!” exclaimed Holyoke from her position on the ground. “That’s cheating!”  
“Sorry,” said Hampshire, their lips curving into a lush smile. “I thought it was my turn again.”  
“Well, now we have to have an orgy,” said Smith. She sounded genuinely excited about the prospect. Amherst stumbled backward onto the couch, their knees abruptly giving out as their head spun with alcohol and the aftershocks of their orgasm.  
“Shit,” said UMass breathlessly, “are we really doing this?”  
“Don’t you want to?” asked Smith, her fingers slipping inside her black thong. UMass could only nod in astonishment as Smith turned to Holyoke, kissing her deeply again and letting their tongues tangle as Smith’s hands reached around Holyoke’s back to smoothly unhook her bra. Holyoke’s soft golden-brown breasts tumbled free and she moaned into Smith’s mouth as Smith grabbed one of her nipples, pinching it gently between her thumb and forefinger. UMass quickly divested himself of his red briefs and wrapped his right hand around his cock, which was hard and swollen, the tip nearly as red as Hampshire’s lipstick. Amherst watched as he jerked himself with quick movements, the muscles of his biceps flexing as he tugged his foreskin up and down. Fuck, that was hot. Amherst felt themself starting to get hard again.  
Hampshire crawled across the circle on their hands and knees, scattering the heap of Jenga tiles, and came to rest in front of UMass. As UMass watched Smith and Holyoke making out, an expression of unrestrained bliss on his ruggedly handsome face, Hampshire leaned down and swallowed his cock in one long, sensuous suck. UMass moaned, his head falling back, and clutched at Hampshire’s bare shoulders. His hands came down to fondle Hampshire’s hard nipples through the velvet top, which slipped down until it was barely covering Hampshire’s breasts. Amherst felt a stab of jealousy-mixed-with-arousal that only served to harden their cock even more. Before their brain could catch up with their body, Amherst was standing up and moving swiftly to kneel behind Hampshire, their hands covering Hampshire’s perfectly rounded ass. They could feel the heat of Hampshire’s skin radiating through the thin fabric of their boxers and smell the faint, intoxicating scent of sweat and arousal radiating from their center. Their cock, so recently spent, surged upward, bobbing against the curve of Hampshire’s ass. Hampshire pulled off of UMass’ dick and twisted to look at Amherst, their eyes heavy-lidded and filled with lust.  
“Fuck me,” Hampshire said, smiling wickedly. “I want you to.” Leaning back, they thrust their cloth-covered ass against Amherst’s dick, pulling an involuntary groan from deep in Amherst’s chest. Amherst pulled down the thin layer of fabric covering Hampshire’s ass and then stopped, shocked at the sight of Hampshire’s bare pussy exposed to them for the first time. Hampshire’s labia were puffy and engorged. A thin trickle of moisture slipped from between their inner lips and ran down their left thigh. Amherst reached out and ran a single finger down Hampshire’s back, over the crack of their ass and down into their moisture. Hampshire shivered and arched back impatiently. “Harder,” they commanded, in a voice that went straight to Amherst’s cock. “I want you inside me.”  
“Are you sure?” asked Amherst. They had imagined fucking Hampshire for so long, but never like this, with UMass on his knees in front of Hampshire while the soft moans and sighs of Holyoke and Smith sounded from directly behind them.  
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Hampshire impatiently. They grabbed Amherst’s dick, sending white-hot sparks of pleasure shooting through every nerve ending in their body, and guided the tip of it into their dripping wet pussy from behind. “I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it when I sit down tomorrow, okay?”  
Amherst thrust forward mindlessly, sheathing their cock in Hampshire’s tight, wet heat. “Uhhhhh….fuck, Hampshire,” they moaned, pulling in and out experimentally. They reached forward and bent over Hampshire, pulling Hampshire’s top down to cup their breasts with both hands. Hampshire moaned and arched backward, forgetting all about UMass as their left hand snaked down between their legs to rub their clit. Suddenly, Amherst felt the walls of Hampshire’s vagina contract around their dick. Hampshire’s skin was warm and soft under their splayed hands as Hampshire shook, riding out the waves of their orgasm. They turned to lie on their back in front of Amherst, their green hair fanning out behind them like a curtain of seaweed. Amherst lowered their body to press their lips to Hampshire’s, feeling Hampshire’s pulse hammer in their chest underneath the soft swell of their bare breasts. They trailed their mouth over Hampshire’s chin and down their neck, relishing the soft moans Hampshire made when they sucked on the soft skin just above the sharp line of their collarbone.  
Suddenly, Amherst felt the soft touch of a smooth hand on their back. Startled, they looked up to find Holyoke positioned behind them. Her dark eyes sparkled and her ample breasts pressed into Amherst’s back as she leaned in close to whisper into their ear.  
“Can I fuck you?”  
Amherst nodded wordlessly, not trusting themself to speak. It had been a long time since they’d been fucked, and even longer (perhaps never) since a cis woman had done the fucking. Holyoke stood up with a wink and disappeared into the suite she shared with Smith, her wide hips swaying seductively. Amherst turned around again to see Smith, completely naked and flushed with pleasure, sinking down onto UMass’ dick as he lay back on the floor, one arm propped above his head, the other busy rubbing Smith’s clit in small circular motions. Amherst slid down Hampshire’s body until they were level with their pussy. Clasping their hands underneath Hampshire’s buttocks, Amherst ran their tongue teasingly around Hampshire’s outer lips before taking their clit into their mouth and sucking hard. Hampshire moaned loudly.  
“God, yes!” they cried, sliding their hand through Amherst’s hair. So Amherst did it again, and again, sliding two fingers in and out of Hampshire as they did so, until Hampshire cried out as their second orgasm overtook them. It was only once Hampshire was slumped against the floor, boneless and panting, that Amherst realized their own dick was still hard. Painfully so. Holyoke returned to the room wearing a harness attached to a massive black plastic cock. Standing there in nothing but the harness, the enormous fake phallus sticking out obscenely between her legs, she looked like a vengeful warrior goddess. UMass raised his eyebrows.  
“So that’s the equipment you’ve been--uhhh-hiding in your suite,” he remarked unsteadily as Smith bounced up and down enthusiastically on his shaft.  
“Watch out, or I’ll use it on you,” Holyoke said, walking over to Amherst. She leaned down and swept her tongue experimentally over Amherst’s ass cheek. Amherst jumped at the touch, then moaned as her tongue was replaced by an oiled finger tracing around the edges of their hole. Holyoke teased them for a few moments, swiping her fingers back and forth and even slipping lower to gently massage Amherst’s balls. Her fingers traveled back up through the slick of oil, then slipped gently past the smooth ring of muscle at the entrance to Amherst’s ass. Amherst moaned loudly. Hampshire sat up slightly to get a better look, a faint tinge of lust still apparent in the flush of their high cheekbones and the glossy sheen of their eyes. They reached out experimentally and touched their fingers to Amherst’s hardened nipples, drawing another desperate moan from some place deep inside Amherst’s chest.  
As Holyoke worked first one, then two fingers into Amherst, they felt Hampshire’s hand move slowly downwards until it grasped Amherst’s very hard cock. Amherst gasped as Holyoke pressed upwards at the same moment, her graceful fingers finding Amherst’s prostate and sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through their entire body. Amherst shook with sensation, their eyes fluttering shut as they tried simultaneously to rock back into Holyoke’s fingers and forward into Hampshire’s deliciously soft hands. Hampshire wrapped their hand around Amherst’s cock, stroking firmly but maddeningly slowly. “More, please,” Amherst whined, but Hampshire just laughed softly and continued teasing them as Holyoke’s fingers probed their prostate.  
Smith moaned loudly and desperately, letting out a string of expletives as she climaxed. Amherst was nearly too far gone to notice. Hampshire cupped their hand around the head of Amherst’s cock, rotating their wrist over the head over and over again. Amherst thrust hard into Hampshire’s fist, feeling the hard press of Holyoke’s strap-on against his slick asshole.  
“Do it,” Amherst hissed at Holyoke, “please do it. Fuck me.”  
Hampshire’s eyes were alight, their entire focus on Amherst’s cock as they ran their hand maddeningly over the tip and down to the base. “That’s it, get right to the edge,” they said, and leaned in to press their open mouth to Amherst’s cock again. Amherst ground back on the strap-on as Holyoke pressed inside of them, relishing the sweet burn of being filled. They moaned as the strap-on grazed their prostate again. Holyoke started to fuck in and out of Amherst’s ass, moaning as the harness stimulated her clit.  
“I’m--fuck--gonna come,” Amherst warned, as their vision began to white out around the edges. But Hampshire suddenly grasped the base of their dick hard, keeping the orgasm at bay.  
“Not until she does,” Hampshire admonished. Holyoke groaned and began fucking Amherst harder, grinding her clit against the base of the strap-on. Smith suddenly appeared behind Holyoke and wrapped her arms around her to tug at her nipples, fastening her mouth to Holyoke’s pulse point.  
“Go on, baby, come for us,” Smith murmured to Holyoke, mouthing at her neck. Holyoke groaned and began fucking even faster, making tiny stars explode at the corners of Amherst’s eyes. They were about to say that they couldn’t last any longer when suddenly Holyoke groaned and spasmed, her entire body shaking. She relaxed back into Smith’s waiting arms, the strap-on slipping effortlessly out as Hampshire released the base of Amherst’s dick and gave it one last lingering pull. Suddenly, Amherst’s dick pulsed and they made a sound that was purely animal, their mouth falling open as their orgasm ripped its way out of them, so intense it was almost painful.  
Everything went white for a second. When Amherst came to, they were sprawled on top of Hampshire, both of them lying on the floor in the middle of the scattered Jenga tiles. Amherst could feel their come, a slippery layer of moisture coating their stomach and smeared across Hampshire’s dusky skin. Amherst rolled over and lay flat on their back, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the tiles pressing into their skin, gasping for air in the steamy room. Everything smelled of sex and vodka and somehow, impossibly, the lavender oil Hampshire brushed behind their ears every morning.  
“You know,” said Holyoke breathlessly, “we’re going to have to get a whole new set of Dirty Jenga tiles.”  
As the room filled with laughter, Amherst reached for Hampshire’s waiting hand and felt vastly, overwhelmingly grateful for the Five College Consortium. 

Ahhahhahah i hate myself


End file.
